


The Stowaway

by niniblack



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Canon-Typical Violence, Long suffering Nikandros, M/M, Rescue Missions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:14:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27159172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niniblack/pseuds/niniblack
Summary: Damen and his co-pilot Nikandros are comfortably settled into life, flying around the galaxy on theLionesstaking odd jobs – some more legal than others. Until a shipment job from Vere to Naboo comes with an unexpected stowaway.
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Comments: 46
Kudos: 117





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stillwaterseas (phoenixflight)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixflight/gifts).



> For Stillwaterseas. She knows why. 😉
> 
> This will make more sense if you've seen Star Wars. Hopefully it makes sense even if you haven't.

Damen twirls the glass the bartender just handed him, inspecting it for stains. There are none; it’s shiny and crystal clean, just like everything on this planet. He can see the patterned tiles of the bar top through the glass, distorted.

“You’re supposed to drink it, not stare at it,” Nikandros mutters, before taking a long sip of his own drink.

“I hate core worlds,” Damen says. He tosses the entire drink back in one go and thumps the glass back down on the bar. The bartender hovers, and Damen nods at him.

“Money’s better here,” Nikandros says, pragmatically.

“It’s too clean.”

“You were complaining about sand getting into everything last week on Tatooine. Figured you’d like Vere better.”

Damen picks at the grout between the tiles as the bartender sets down a refilled glass. He sips at this one. “Where is this contact anyway?”

Nikandros shrugs. “He’ll be here.”

The contact for this job is a tall man named Guilliame, who is an assistant to the merchant who’s hired them to transport goods from Vere to Naboo. Nikandros has been in charge of setting this up, so Damen waits at the bar while he haggles over the price of the deal. He doesn’t even know what they’re transporting. Something frivolous, knowing what Vere and Naboo are like.

Sure enough, they’re transporting clothes. Crates and crates of elaborate Veretian outfits, piled high in the cargo hold.

“Clothes?” Damen asks.

“Not quite as lucrative as spice,” Nikandros says, “but less chance of being arrested if we get boarded by Imperials.”

“I didn’t think the Naboolians were into Veretian fashion,” Damen says.

“Charls is trying to branch out into other systems, I guess.”

“No one else wants to deal with those laces.”

“If anyone does it will be the Naboolians.”

Damen tilts his head, conceding the point, and heads toward the hold to check their supplies before they take off.

The benefit to taking a legitimate job like this one is that no one’s chasing after them as they take off, and they’re able to get out of atmo and into hyperspace with just a few communications with the spaceport traffic control. Naboo isn’t along any trade routes, but it’s popularity as a destination has grown since it’s the Emperor’s home world. The trip there from Vere will take a couple of days.

It’s the second day in hyperspace when Damen finds the stowaway.

\- - -

Damen drags the kid into the main hold, where Nikandros is lounging on the bunk reading a holobook. Nikandros’ eyes widen comically as Damen tosses the kid toward a chair and orders him to sit.

The kid straightens up and remains standing, arms crossed. He’s clearly Veretian, dressed in a jacket that laces from neck to waist and down the arms, with pale skin and bright blond hair. And now that Damen’s looking at him, he’s older than Damen first thought too. Twenty, maybe, rather than the sixteen or seventeen Damen had first guessed, with an astonishingly lovely face.

“It appears we have a stowaway,” Damen says. “Found him in the hold, hiding behind the crates.”

“How the hell did you get on board?” Nikandros demands.

“Your security is nonexistent,” the kid says.

“Who are you?” Damen asks.

There’s a pause before the kid says, “Charls.”

“That’s the name on the crates,” Damen says, not fooled for a moment.

“I’m a cousin of his,” the kids says. “Also named Charls. After our grandfather, Charls.”

“You are full of shit.”

The kid raises his chin, somehow managing to look like he’s looking down at Damen even though he’s nearly a foot shorter. “I am here to supervise your transport of our goods.”

Damen looks over at Nikandros, trying to convey  _ can you believe this shit _ without saying it aloud.

Nikandros has gotten his blaster out, and has it aimed at the kid. “Your real name, or we can toss you out of the airlock.”

The kid eyes the blaster, arms still crossed. It’s a long minute before he says, “Laurent.”

“And what are you doing on my ship, Laurent?” Nikandros asks.

“Sightseeing.”

Nikandros raises the blaster a bit, to point at Laurent’s head.

“What do you think I’m doing?” Laurent demands. “I needed to get off planet. You were clearly leaving. I’ll be out of your hair as soon as you land.”

“We’re not running a taxi service,” Damen says.

“You never take on passengers?”

“Not for free.”

Laurent looks away, gaze running over the beat up interior of the ship. “You can’t charge that much for these accommodations.”

“More than you’ve got,” Damen tells him. “Or are you one of those secretly rich stowaways?”

Laurent rolls his eyes. “I can pay you when we land.”

“Yeah right,” Nikandros says. 

“I have accounts I can access once we land,” Laurent says. 

“And why didn’t you access these accounts and hire someone to take you off planet instead of stowing away on my ship?” Damen asks.

Laurent mouth purses a bit before he says, “I couldn’t access them at home. My husband controlled all my money.”

Damen raises his eyebrows at  _ husband _ .

“He’s very controlling,” Laurent goes on. His shoulders have hunched a bit, arms still crossed over his chest but looking much less haughty now. “My parents forced me to marry him. I had to get away.”

“So you’ve jumped on board my ship to escape from your arranged marriage?” Damen says, just to make sure he’s got this story right.

Laurent nods. He turns wide, pleading eyes on Damen. “I really can pay you. I just had to get away from him. He’s not… not a good man.”

Damen looks at Nikandros, and Nikandros raises a single eyebrow, clearly not believing any of it. It’s probably a lie, but Laurent looks so earnest, and very young. Damen finds himself feeling sorry for him, much as he’s trying not to.

He flicks a hand at Nikandros and, with a sigh, Nikandros puts away his blaster.

“You can stay,” Damen says. “At least, we’re not going to jettison you out in an escape pod into empty space. But I do expect to be paid when we land.”

Laurent nods, looking relieved. “Of course,” he says. “I can pay you five thousand.”

Damen scoffs. “Fifteen.”

“No one charges fifteen thousand for a single passenger,” Laurent protests.

“Want to try the escape pod and see if someone with a cheaper rate will pick you up?” Damen asks. “We’re about twenty parsecs past Kuat. You might get an Imperial freighter to stop for your distress signal.”

Laurent comes close to glaring at him. “I only have twelve thousand,” he says.

“Twelve then,” Damen says.

“You’re going to take every last credit from me?”

“Yep.” Damen pops the p, smiling at Laurent. “Next time negotiate ahead of time.”

\- - -

It’s only a few hours later that Damen has started to think twelve thousand might be a little low for transporting Laurent across the galaxy. Now that they know he’s there, Laurent has decided to make a nuisance of himself. He pokes his head into the hatch where Damen is working on an upgrade to the sublight engine, asking, “Should you really be doing that while we’re in flight?”

Damen’s so startled by the unexpected interruption that he bangs his head on the low roof. He curses, reaching up to rub at the sore spot.

Laurent just stares at him, expression curious. He’s sitting cross-legged on the floor above the access hatch Damen has crawled inside of, peering down at him. He reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “It seems like you could damage something and jerk us out of hyperspace,” he says. “Or into a black hole.”

“It’s the sublight engine,” Damen grinds out. “And it’s an upgrade, not a repair. I’m not touching anything that’s connected to the hyperspace engine. Which you’d know, if you knew anything about ships.”

“I know plenty about ships,” Laurent says.

Damen scoffs.

“I know this YT-2400 has been so heavily modified it barely resembles its original designation anymore and looks more like a pile of loosely held together scrap. Which is probably helpful if you’re smuggling, which I assume is your usual line of work? Or do all legitimate ships have hidden storage compartments in the aft hold?”

“Is that where you were hiding? Do I need to hose them out?”

“Considering the layer of grime on everything in this ship, I won’t hold my breath for that,” Laurent says.

“Hey!” Damen hauls himself halfway out of the hatch so that he can point a finger at Laurent. “ _ The Lioness _ is a fine ship. Don’t insult her.”

“I wasn’t insulting the ship, I was insulting your ability to keep it clean. Though,” Laurent pauses, looking around, “it is looking a bit… ramshackle.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Damen tells him.

Laurent points to the engine Damen was working on. “That coupling is loose. It will short out the first time you use it if you don’t reroute it over there.” He points to another spot.

Damen glares at him. “Get out of here.”

“I’m just trying to help.”

“Out!”

Laurent hops back up to his feet in one smooth movement, bouncing a bit. “Let me know if you need more repair advice,” he says, entirely too chipper, before he spins on his heel and heads back into the main area of the ship.

Damen almost yells after him, but settles for grumbling under his breath. He lowers himself back down, yanking at the coupling he’d been working on.

It comes free immediately, indicating that it was, in fact, too loose. Damen stares at it for a moment, then curses and tosses it to the floor.

\- - -

The next morning, over cups of caf, Nikandros tells Damen, “I’m going to throw that kid out of an airlock.”

“What’s he done now?”

“He asked to see the cockpit, so I let him in, and then he asked a bunch of impertinent questions about our route. Figured out where we’re going, obviously. Then wanted to know why we were coming out of hyperspace at Chardaan, which I tried to explain was so we could take the Hydrian Way and come out ahead of Pax, then route around Kalinda over to Naboo, and he tells me we’d save half a day if we just went all the way to Malastare and then cut over.”

Damen almost doesn’t want to ask. “Was he right?”

“Of course he was fucking right,” Nikandros grits out. “He’s insufferable.”

“Did you reroute us?”

Nikandros stares down into his mug of caf sullenly. “Yes.”

“At least we’ll be rid of him half a day sooner.”

“There’s a bright side.”

“Oh, did my route calculations work out?” Laurent asks, popping up from around the corner. He smiles smugly at them, already sure of the answer.

Nikandros and Damen both stare at him, then turn as one and walk away.

\- - -

Damen finds Laurent later that afternoon, looking conspicuously innocent in the crew quarters. “What are you doing here?” he asks.

“I was looking for something to read,” Laurent says. “Nikandros mentioned he had some holobooks.”

Damen narrows his eyes, trying to judge how truthful that is. Nikandros does keep several holobooks and swaps them out for new ones every few stops they make, but it’s unlikely he told Laurent he could borrow one. “Second drawer on the left,” Damen tells him.

Laurent turns, and opens the drawer in question. He spends a minute checking the titles before selecting a book, and turns back to Damen with it in hand. “Thanks.”

Damen just nods at him. “Come with me,” he says, turning to head back towards the sublight engines he’s been working on.

Laurent follows after him, curiosity apparently peaked. “What’s going on?”

Damen gestures down at the open hatch in the floor. “If you want to make yourself useful, there’s a busted fuse that’s underneath that panel. Pull it out and replace it.”

Laurent looks surprised for a moment, before schooling his expression back into something more neutral. “You want me to work on your ship?”

“Your hands are smaller.”

Laurent looks down at his own hands, then at the new fuse Damen is holding out. “Finally found something that being the size of a bantha is a drawback for?”

“I’d normally come at it from underneath, but can’t do that while we’re in flight.”

There’s a longer pause before Laurent takes the fuse. He sticks it in a pocket, then lowers himself down into the hatch. “Are you going to hand me tools?” he asks.

“Sure,” Damen says, crouching down to watch him. He’s not entirely certain Laurent knows how to replace a fuse, but it’s a simple job.

Laurent has to turn around to reach the panel, and he winds up on his hands and knees, reaching for it. It gives Damen a good view of his ass.

“Stop staring,” Laurent says. He’s not even looking back at Damen.

“Pull the yellow wire,” Damen tells him.

“I assumed that, since the new one is also yellow.”

“Just making sure. You don’t seem like the type who’s done a lot of mechanic work.”

Laurent hums in acknowledgement, tugging at the panel. “My brother liked ships,” he says. He reaches a hand back towards Damen. “Pliers?”

Damen hands them to him, and watches as Laurent gets to work. He does actually seem to know what he’s doing, and it’s not long before he’s finished and hauling himself back out of the access hatch. He brushes his knees off before straightening.

“Thanks,” Damen says.

“No other spots you can’t maneuver your impressive bulk into?”

“Impressive?” Damen asks, unable to suppress a grin.

Laurent rolls his eyes. “If that’s all, Captain?”

Damen keeps smirking at him, and Laurent turns to go with a huff.

“Enjoy your book!” Damen calls after him.

Laurent makes a rude gesture over his shoulder.

\- - -

The last day in hyperspace Damen finds Laurent sitting in the galley, staring at the scuffed tabletop and picking at the plastic edging.

“Okay there?” Damen asks, sitting down across from him with his plate of eggs and mug of caf. He’d offered eggs to Laurent, but he’d declined.

Laurent says, “Your ship is very boring.”

Damen takes a sip of his caf and hums in response.

“How do you stand these long trips, just the two of you?”

“We fuck,” Damen says.

“You do not,” Laurent says immediately. He’s looked up though, more interested in the conversation.

Damen tilts his head at him, raising an eyebrow.

“I’d have heard you,” Laurent insists. “There’s barely a door between the crew and passenger quarters.”

“Nikandros is a very quiet, but thorough, lover.”

Nikandros, who has just appeared in the doorway, says, “It’s too early for this,” and turns to leave again.

“Damen made eggs,” Laurent calls after him.

Nikandros hesitates, but doesn’t return.

“You refused to eat the eggs,” Damen points out.

“You weren’t sure what kind of eggs they were,” Laurent says.

“The edible kind.”

Laurent makes a face, and Damen stifles a laugh. “Nikandros has more books,” he offers. “Can’t get the holonet while we’re in hyperspace though, sorry.”

“Are you going to fix those capacitors for your deflector shield?” Laurent asks.

Damen stares at him. “After this job,” he finally says, surprised Laurent had noticed the problem.

“Do you have the new parts?”

“Yeah, just haven’t had the time.”

“I’ll do it,” Laurent offers.

“You’re that bored?”

Laurent shrugs. “Maybe I want to sabotage your ship so you won’t have shields next time you try to run an Imperial blockade,” he says.

Damen stares at him.

“Yes, I’m bored,” Laurent says.

“Do you even know how?” Damen asks.

“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t.”

“I’m not sure I trust you to go yanking parts off my ship,” Damen says.

“You did yesterday,” Laurent points out.

“That was under supervision.”

“So come stare at my ass while I do it,” Laurent tells him. He stands up. “Where are your tools?”

Laurent turns out to be quite competent at the mechanic work, though Damen lingers nearby, uneasy leaving someone he doesn’t know working unattended on the ship. Laurent, it seems, finally gets sick of the silent audience and says, “If you’re going to watch you could at least help me with it.”

“You’re the one who wanted to work on it.”

“Hand me that wrench,” Laurent tells him.

Damen steps forward to grab it and holds it up to Laurent where he’s tucked himself up into one of the ceiling access panels.

“No, the other one.”

Damen hands him the other wrench.

Laurent drops the smaller one he was using and Damen barely catches it before it hits him on the head. “Watch it!”

“Pay better attention,” Laurent mutters around the bolt he’s stuck between his teeth. He’s jerking hard enough on another one that his whole body moves with it.

Damen watches as he fits the other bolt into place as well, then leans back a bit. Damen steps under him, afraid for a moment that he’s going to fall, but Laurent seems to have the balance of a lothcat. 

“You’re staring at my ass again,” Laurent says.

“It’s a nice ass,” Damen tells him.

Laurent twists around, looking down at him, and Damen raises an eyebrow. Laurent seems to be studying him, and Damen drops the cocky expression, wondering what exactly he’s thinking. His eyes look very blue, in the bright work lights, and his hair is falling into his face.

“I can stop staring,” Damen says, “if it’s bothering you.”

“That’s it?”

“What?”

“You’d just stop looking at me if I told you to?”

“Well, as much as I can,” Damen amends. “I have to look at you to talk to you.”

“No you don’t,” Laurent says.

“Want me to close my eyes every time you enter a room?”

“Would you?”

Damen grins at him, a half smile of an expression. “If you asked.”

Laurent looks at him for a moment longer, then says, “Hand me one of the new capacitors.”

Damen looks down to the floor and spots the item in question, handing it up. “How were you going to get these if I wasn’t here to play assistant?” he asks. Normally when Damen’s working in the ceiling he packs everything he needs into a pack and drags it up with him. “Jump down and climb back up every time you needed something?”

“Something like that,” Laurent says, turning back to the work. “Good thing you’re here.”

Later, once Laurent has the last capacitor in, he drops the last of his tools down to Damen.

Damen turns back and holds his arms out again, grinning. “Gonna jump?” he asks. He’s not entirely sure how Laurent got up there, now that he’s thinking about it. He hadn’t gotten the ladder out. Must’ve jumped and hauled himself up.

Laurent seems to be eyeing the distance of the fall more than he is Damen, but then he pitches forward suddenly, letting go of his hold on the bar across the ceiling hatch, and falls into Damen’s arms with a sharp “oof” as their chests collide.

Damen grips him hard under the arms so that his feet won’t slam into the floor, and it winds up looking like a hug. Laurent tilts his head back, looking into Damen’s face, and Damen finds himself staring into those incredibly clear blue eyes from only a few inches away. He wonders if Laurent can feel the way his heart is pounding a bit. From the surprise, even though he’d asked Laurent to jump. That’s all.

It’s this exact moment that Nikandros walks in, takes one look at them, and says, “Oh for fuck’s sake.”

Laurent scrambles out of Damen’s arms, and Damen lets him go, taking a step back. “We weren’t doing anything, Nik,” he says, turning to Nikandros.

Nikandros rolls his eyes. “Just remember what happened last time you got involved with a blond passenger.”

“That was entirely different!” Damen protests, thinking of Jokaste, who they’d picked up on Ord Mantell and who had spent a few months as part of the crew before leaving them stranded with a dead ship and a price on their heads in Hutt territory.

Nikandros leaves from the same way he’d come, and Damen turns back to Laurent to – Apologize? Explain? He’s not sure. But Laurent is gone, disappeared off to somewhere else on board.

_ Fuck. _

\- - -

Laurent wanders up to the cockpit later that day as they come out of hyperspace above Naboo, looking over Damen and Nikandros’ shoulders at the planet hanging before them in space. Naboo’s fairly temperate, and covered in swaths of blue and green with swirls of white clouds.

There’s a Star Destroyer hovering above the northern area of the planet, over where the capital should be.

“Strap in,” Nikandros tells Laurent, and Laurent sinks into one of the back seats.

“Are there always this many Imperials on Naboo?” Laurent asks.

“It’s the Emperor’s home world,” Damen says, attention on keying in the frequency for the capital’s spaceport.

After he doesn’t say anything else, Laurent asks, “So?”

“So, can’t have anything happening here. It’d look bad for the Empire. It’s pretty tightly controlled.” The comm beeps as they wait for an answer, and he looks over his shoulder at Laurent. “Didn’t you know that before hopping on a ship headed here?”

Laurent doesn’t answer.

There’s a burst of static from the comm before the spaceport control asks for their designation, and Damen’s distracted by relaying the particulars for a few minutes. After they have clearance to land he glances back at Laurent to find him watching the planet grow larger with an almost wary expression.

Once they’ve landed, Nikandros comms Charls, the Veretian merchant they’ve transported everything for, about picking up the shipment. He’s already nearby, and says excitedly that he’ll be there in a half hour.

It’s not enough time to get their money sorted from Laurent, so Damen leads him back towards the galley. “Stay here,” he says, pointing to the bench seat. “We’ll be done offloading everything pretty fast then we can get you sorted.”

Laurent sits, amenable for once. “Sure,” he says. “Can I have another book?”

Damen shoves a datapad at him. “Holonet’s working,” he says.

Laurent takes the datapad, flicking it on.

Damen thinks about warning him about sneaking off, but Laurent has been trustworthy about fixing the ship these past couple of days, so he stays quiet, closing the door behind him as he moves further into the ship to start dragging the cargo out.

Charls is overly friendly and excited to see that his crates have arrived unscathed, thanking them profusely. He has a row of blindingly orange colored speeder trucks to load everything into, and it takes longer than Damen had expected for Charls’ assistants to get everything off the ship and loaded up.

Damen shakes Charls’ hand once everything is loaded and he has the completion portion of the pay on a credit chip in his pocket. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

“Oh, the pleasure is mine, truly,” Charls says. “I have brokered a deal with the Naboolian Queen herself, did you know?” He nods, smiling.

“Well, keep in touch if you need more shipments,” Damen says. “This was a good job for us.” He doesn’t mention that it’s one of the few legitimate jobs they’ve had.

“Of course, of course,” Charls says. His attention is caught then, by one of his assistants, and he says goodbye quickly before hurrying over to the lead speeder truck.

“That was an easy job, aside from the stowaway,” Nikandros says, watching Charls and his entourage pull away from the docking bay.

“Speaking of,” Damen says, turning back towards the ship. “Let’s go make some more money.” He’s not sure where Laurent needs to go to access these accounts he claims to have. The nearest bank, maybe. Or just a terminal.

\- - -

Predictably, Laurent is nowhere to be found.


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's hoping 2021 is the return of my muse from the wars. 🙏🏼 Thank you all for your patience, with this and with any other fics of mine you're waiting on updates from.

“I can’t believe he ran off,” Damen says, voice muffled by the palm of his hand as he slumps forward onto the table Nikandros has secured for them at a bar near the spaceport. It’s a bit fancy, as most things on Naboo are, all soft colors and the quiet background noise of the holoscreens over the bar.

“That’s because you couldn’t see past his blond hair to the conniving little snake underneath,” Nikandros says. He’s slouched back in his chair, nursing a strong drink.

Damen sighs deeply. His own drink isn’t nearly strong enough.

After a minute, Nikandros leans forward and pats him on the arm. “Easy come, easy go, right?”

“Sure,” Damen says. He really had thought Laurent was going to stick around though, at least to pay them like he’d promised. He’d seemed good for it. But his story about an abusive husband had probably been a lie, and he’d stowed away in the first place rather than negotiating proper passage, so really, Damen shouldn’t be as surprised as he is. Nikandros has already raked him over the coals for not locking Laurent up during the unloading process.

Damen’s attention is caught, then, by the sound of Laurent’s name coming from near the bar. He turns to look, startled – and maybe, damn him, a bit hopeful – but it’s coming from the holoscreens.

_ “– missing from Vere last week, was found on Naboo today. Laurent Marlas is the heir to the ruling house of Vere, where his uncle has served as regent since he was thirteen.” _ There’s a picture taking up half the screen, of a young blond man dressed in Veretian finery and standing on a balcony somewhere.  _ “Marlas was expected to come of age in the next year and be crowned as king, but his uncle has now accused him of being a rebel sympathizer who has abused his royal position to aid the rebellion against the Empire in their efforts to make a strike on a core world. He is currently being held by Imperial forces on Naboo, awaiting transfer to Coruscant to answer for these crimes.” _

The holoscreen flips to a different report about relations between the humans and gungans on Naboo, and Damen keeps staring at it for a moment before turning slowly to look at Nikandros.

“There’s no way–” Nikandros starts.

“That’s him,” Damen interrupts.

“The prince of Vere did not stowaway on our ship!”

“Keep your voice down,” Damen tells him. “And that’s for sure him. He used us to run away.”

“Straight into the arms of the Empire?” Nikandros asks. “He’s not very good at running away then. Should have picked a ship that wasn’t going to Naboo, for one. Everyone knows it’s under tight control.”

Damen looks back over at the holoscreen, but it’s still talking about gungans. He frowns down at his drink. Laurent hadn’t known they were going to Naboo when he’d initially snuck aboard. It’s not really his fault he picked a ship going somewhere unsafe. He’d probably thought they were smuggling and headed for the Outer Rim.

“Oh no,” Nikandros says.

“What?” Damen asks.

“I know that look,” Nikandros says. “We’re not going after him.”

Damen looks up. “Nik, I can’t believe you’d suggest doing that.”

“I didn’t.”

“But you’re right, we have to rescue him.”

Nikandros’ face is turning red. “He’s a lying sneak who owes us money!”

“Exactly!” Damen says. He downs the rest of his drink in two swallows and stands up. “Come on. They can’t have had him for long. No way they’ve transferred him yet.”

“Damen, I said no.”

Damen’s already tossed some credits onto the table for their tab and started towards the door. He spins on a heel to look back at Nikandros, hands raised in a ‘what can you do’ expression. “No other way to get our money from him, Nik. We gotta rescue him first.”

\- - -

Oddly enough, breaking  _ into _ an Imperial Detention Center is a lot harder than breaking out of one, though Damen’s only done the opposite once to compare this too. He and Nikandros loiter within sight of one of the entrances, trying to look inconspicuous.

“This is a horrible idea,” Nikandros says.

“You said that already,” Damen tells him.

“I’m going to keep saying it until it penetrates your thick skull.”

They both turn away, towards a booth selling some kind of native fruit, as a group of stormtroopers pass. “He needs help,” Damen argues.

“So do lots of people,” Nikandros says. “We can’t save them all.”

“Yeah, but we can save him.”

“Or we’ll die trying.”

“We’ll be fine.” Damen grins at him. “It’s just a bunch of Imperials. You know they can’t shoot for shit.”

Nikandros sighs. He glances over his shoulder at the entrance. “We need a way in.”

“What are you thinking?”

Nikandros looks ahead, toward a couple of troopers standing at the edge of the street. “You think the armor will fit?”

_ Doubtful, _ Damen thinks. “It’ll be tight,” he says.

“Let’s hope no one looks too closely then.”

\- - -

They move further away from the detention center to find a pair of troopers to stun and steal armor from. It is a tight fit for both of them – most troopers are shorter and slighter than either Damen or Nikandros – but they manage, and the helmet is the most important part anyway.

Getting inside is easier than Damen expected, now that they have a disguise. They simply follow along behind the next patrol group and blend into the crowd as well as they can when they’re nearly a head taller than everyone else. Once inside, they break away from the group and look for an access terminal. They need to figure out exactly where Laurent is being held.

Damen stands guard while Nikandros slices into the terminal, and after what feels like forever but is probably only ten minutes he says, “Cell besh six twenty-three. That’s the basement level.”

“Basement, awesome,” Damen says. “Let’s find a lift.”

Nikandros spends a minute wiping the evidence that he’d been searching the system, then they make for the nearest turbolift. The basement is brightly lit with artificial light when they step out of the lift, but there isn’t a soul in sight along this corridor.

“Was there a map?” Damen asks.

“That would have been convenient, wouldn’t it?” Nikandros says.

“I’m gonna take that as a no.”

“Let’s try right, these bases are usually built in a big circle.”

They encounter only three other stormtroopers as they wander down the corridor, trying to look like they know where they’re going. No one says anything to them, though one helmet does swivel to watch them walk past. They come across an officers area what feels like halfway around the base, and it’s manned by four men in grey uniforms rather than stormtrooper armor.

One of them looks over at Damen and Nikandros, but his expression is overall disinterested. “What are you here for?”

“Um,” Damen says. “Prisoner in besh six twenty-three. He’s being transferred.” He silently congratulates himself on the quick thinking.

The officer keys that into the terminal in front of him, then turns back to Damen with a deep frown. “That prisoner is currently being interrogated.”

“Oh,” Damen says.  _ Shit, _ he thinks. They’re really running out of time then. “Where’s that?”

Nikandros elbows him. “He’s new,” he tells the officer.

The officer’s eyes have narrowed at them. “Who sent you down here?”

Damen looks over at Nikandros and tilts his head left, which was the signal they’d agreed meant ‘shoot everything in sight and run’. Nikandros nods.

Damen turns back to the officer and shoots him point blank in the chest.

They make fairly quick work of the other three officers, but not before one of them gets the beginning of a comm off to somewhere else in the base. Nikandros shoots out the surveillance cameras as well.

“We’re going to have company real fast,” Nikandros says.

Damen’s already checking the corridors that branch off from this command station, and luckily for them they’re full of cells. “Found it,” he says, after he spots the first one labeled with besh. They make their way down the hall, rushing past cell doors, before stumbling upon the interrogation room at a bend in the hall.

“How do we get in?” Damen whispers.

“Knock?” Nikandros suggests.

Damen stares at him for a moment.

“What?” Nikandros asks. “Just claim you were sent by an officer.”

Damen doesn’t have any better ideas, so he knocks on the door with the butt of his blaster. 

It’s opened after a long wait by a tall, broad, human male, dressed entirely in black and wearing a helmet that comes down over his forehead. His eyes are already narrowed over a nose that looks like it’s been broken a few times, and his mouth is twisted into a deep frown. “What?” he barks out.

“Prisoner transfer,” Damen tries again. “For the prisoner from besh six twenty-three. Officer said you were interrogating him.” The stormtrooper helmet distorts his voice, making it come out tinny and processed.

“I’m not done,” the man says, already turning his back on them. As he turns, Damen’s able to see into the room behind him. It’s empty aside from a hovering droid and a table in the center of the room. And on the table, there’s someone with pale blond hair strapped down.

Damen steps forward before the door can close again, Nikandros close on his heels, and the man turns back to them again. 

“I didn’t give you permission to enter–” he starts to say.

Damen raises the blaster and shoots him before he can finish.

The man ducks to the side to avoid the bolt, lightning fast, and reaches for his belt to grab a weapon, which turns out to be an actual fucking lightsaber. The blade, bright red, emerges with a snap-hiss that Damen hasn’t heard since news footage about the Clone Wars when he was a kid.

“What the fuck?” Nikandros mutters, raising his blaster and shooting.

The bolt is deflected by the lightsaber, sending Nikandros dodging out of the way of the return fire. When Damen fires again, the other end of the lightsaber lights up as well into a dual-bladed monstrosity and sends the bolt flying back at his head.

Nikandros keeps shooting, trying to find an opening, while Damen attempts to circle around behind him. The man blocks the volley of shots easily, whipping the lightsaber from left to right.

There’s a groan from the table as Laurent stirs, and a clanking sound as he fights against the restraints. Damen can’t even spare him a glance with the crazy Jedi bearing down on him.

The man is spinning the lightsaber now, like a deadly fan, and it’s so fast it’s impossible for Nikandros, standing in front of him, to get a shot off without having it sent right back towards himself. Damen has worked his way around to behind the man now, and aims for his head.

The man whips the blade around, no longer spinning, and blocks Damen’s shot with ease. At the same time he holds a hand out towards Nikandros, and Nikandros goes flying backwards through the air to slam into the wall, hitting it hard and dropping like a stone.

“Neither of you have the Force, do you?” the man asks with a sneer, deflecting another bolt from Damen’s blaster. He swipes at Damen, and Damen has to jump to the left to avoid being sliced in half. The blade is close enough to leave a singe in his armor.

Nikandros is back on his feet and firing again, a volley of shots aimed at the gap between the man’s armor and helmet. The man has to turn to deflect the shot, spinning the lightsaber to his other side, and Damen takes the opening to launch himself at the man in a tackle that takes them both to the ground.

The lightsaber drops to the floor, blades extinguishing, as Damen and the man wrestle for control. Damen’s big, and knows what he’s doing when it comes to hand to hand, but apparently the man does too because as soon as Damen rolls them so that he’s on top, he’s pitched over onto his back again, struggling to hold the man back from gouging out his eyes.

Then there’s a snap-hiss again, and the end of the lightsaber blade is far too close to Damen’s hands for comfort as it emerges from the man’s shoulder. The man lets out a gurgling scream, and Damen can smell the burning flesh.

The blade retracts, back through the man’s shoulder, and the man twists to look behind himself just in time for the blade to slide through his neck. There’s no blood, even as the man’s head falls to the side and his heavy body slumps down on top of Damen.

Damen looks up. Laurent is standing over him, still holding the red lightsaber and breathing hard. He has a cut along the side of his forehead and his lip is split, blood smeared over both. The look in his eyes is nearly feral.

Damen shoves the body off of him and scrambles to his feet. He takes a step toward Laurent, but Laurent raises the lightsaber, ready to strike again, and it’s a stunned second before Damen realizes he’s still wearing the stormtrooper helmet. He reaches up to yank it off.

“We came to rescue you,” he tells Laurent.

Laurent stares at him. The lightsaber drops a bit.

Nikandros comes up behind Damen, helmet still in place. “If you two are done gazing into each other’s eyes, half this base is probably about to descend upon us so we should really get out. Now.”

Laurent stares at him.

“I brought Nik,” Damen explains. “For backup.”

Nikandros’ snort comes out as static through the helmet’s vocoder.

Damen looks down at the dead man. Or, at his headless body, anyway. “Who was that guy?” he asks.

“Twelfth Brother,” Laurent says, looking down at the body.

“What?” Damen asks.

“He’s an Inquisitor.”

That doesn’t make any more sense than the first thing Laurent had said, but before Damen can ask again Nikandros walks over to the door and says, “It’s clear, let’s go.”

Damen shoves his helmet back on. “After you,” he says, gesturing for Laurent to go first.

Laurent starts to follow Nikandros into the hallway, but Damen stops him with a hand on his arm.

“Do you know how to use that?” he asks, pointing to the lightsaber Laurent is still carrying.

Laurent looks at it like he forgot he was holding it. He takes a step back from Damen and twirls the sword – just a single blade, thankfully – in a smooth motion that makes it swipe through the air making arcs of light. “It’s not that hard,” he says, before turning it off. His knuckles are white around the hilt, Damen notices.

_ Well, maybe not if you have freaky super powers, _ Damen thinks. He wouldn’t have pegged Laurent as a secret Jedi, but then again all Jedi are secret ones now. Or dead ones.

They don’t encounter anyone on the way back to the command station. Nikandros ducks down next to one of the dead officers for a moment before standing back up, brandishing a pair of manacles. “Here, found a disguise for you too, Laurent.”

\- - -

It’s truly shocking how few Imperials question two stormtroopers leading a bloody prisoner around a detention center. They only have to shoot their way out of two more corridors, and those are right next to the exit.

It’s going pretty well, right up until they find the exits sealed.

“I think they’re onto us,” Damen says.

“Move,” Laurent says, nudging him out of the way. He’d abandoned the unclamped manacles when they’d first gotten shot at again, and now he pulls out the lightsaber again and starts… well, melting a hole into the door is the only way Damen can think to describe it. These outer doors are thick durasteel, so maybe it’s true that lightsabers can cut through anything. It takes Laurent a minute or two to cut a hole big enough, but then he connects the large circle of molten metal he’s drawn, and there’s a loud  _ clank _ as the durasteel falls forward, leaving a perfect exit out into the city open to them.

Laurent switches the lightsaber off and steps through. “Coming boys?” he asks, eyebrow raised as he looks back at them.

A brisk run through the city, stopping only to abandon the stormtrooper armor in an alley, brings them back to the spaceport. “I never thought I’d be glad to see this hunk of junk again,” Laurent mutters, as the  _ Lioness _ comes into sight.

“Did you just insult my ship?” Damen asks.

“If your ship gets me off this planet I’ll never say another poor word about it,” Laurent swears.

Nikandros is frowning. “When did we decide we were letting him back on the ship?”

“We just rescued him from the Imperials,” Damen says. “We can’t leave him to get caught again!”

“He still hasn’t paid us for his last trip!”

“About that,” Laurent says, jogging a step to keep up. “My accounts are all frozen.”

“Of course they are,” Nikandros says, sarcasm thick in his voice. “You’re a wanted criminal, after all.”

“That’s really not my fault,” Laurent argues, as they wait for the loading ramp to descend. “My uncle–”

“Not your fault? You’re a fucking Jedi.”

“I’m really not.”

“Oh really?”

“You don’t need the Force to use a lightsaber,” Laurent says. “Even you could do it.”

“Sounds like something only a  _ Jedi _ would know,” Nikandros argues.

“Here, give it a try.” Laurent shoves the lightsaber hilt towards Nikandros.

Nikandros is so surprised he fumbles and nearly drops it. “I don’t want this!” He holds it back out to Laurent.

“Just turn it on. It doesn’t take the Force to hit the damn button.”

“Yeah sure, let me do that in an  _ Imperial _ spaceport in the  _ Imperial _ capital of the  _ Imperial _ emperor’s homeworld.”

“Is there another type of emperor?” Laurent asks curiously.

They’re interrupted, and if not for the fact that it’s by a legion of stormtroopers rounding the corner to start shooting at them, Damen would be grateful. As it is, he starts swearing and ducks behind the ramp, grabbing Laurent by the sleeve to pull him down as well. Nikandros runs up the ramp and leans around a strut to return fire.

Damen’s returning fire as he can, peeking over the ramp. He calls up to Nikandros, “Can you cover us?”

“There’s too many of them!”

Laurent raises a hand, and the lightsaber hilt Nikandros was still holding is ripped from his hand, flying towards Laurent. It slams into Laurent’s hand and he’s already stepping out from behind the ramp as he lights it.

He’s not as good at wielding it as the man in the interrogation cell had been. But the mere sight of the red blade is apparently enough to startle most of the stormtroopers into pausing their blasterfire, and that’s enough time for Damen and Laurent to get up the ramp and onto the ship.

Damen slams a hand onto the control panel to close the ramp and sprints for the cockpit. Nikandros veers towards the gun turret, while Laurent follows Damen, dropping into the co-pilot seat.

“Do you know how to fly?” Damen asks.

Laurent hesitates, looking around at the controls. “Not a freighter.”

“Strap in,” Damen tells him, lift off sequence already started. “This is going to be a lot, uh, bumpier than taking off from Vere was.”

He reaches across Laurent, pulling the navicomputer closer so he can have coordinates keyed in and ready as soon as they’re out of atmo. Laurent tugs it away from him. “I’ll handle the coordinates,” he says.

“Sure,” Damen says, dropping back to his own seat. The Star Destroyer they’d seen hanging over the space above the capital city is suddenly all he can think about. He can’t outgun that, but he might be able to outrun it. The _ Lioness _ is fast. She’s gotten him out of worse scrapes than this. Or, well, scrapes that were nearly as bad as this.

Okay, no. He’s never helped a Jedi escape custody and fled with one on board his ship before. If they’re caught, they’ll all be executed.

He can hear Nikandros swearing through the headset as he shoots at the troopers in the docking bay. “Feel free to take off anytime, Damen,” Nikandros says.

“I thought you might want some practice with the guns before we take on a Star Destroyer.” Damen flicks the last control and watches the gauge closely as it inches closer to being ready to take off. He can probably cut it at just under full but too far under and they’ll come crashing back down.

“Fucking hell,” Nikandros mutters.

_ There _ . Damen jerks the ship up and out of the docking bay at nearly entirely vertical. The move makes his shoulders slam back into his seat and has the added bonus of having probably blasted the docking bay below them with engine backwash.

They’re already being hailed, an official voice telling them to return to the spaceport or be fired upon. “What did they call what they were already doing?” Damen wonders aloud, leaning over to run a hand up the row of buttons that will engage the deflector shields. He can see the shadow of the Star Destroyer, already hovering above them, waiting for them to emerge into space.

“Naboolian hospitality?” Laurent suggests dryly. 

“Coordinates ready?” Damen asks.

“Yes,” Laurent says. “If you can get us there.”

Damen risks a glance over at him, and finds Laurent looking back with the worry plain on his face. Damen grins at him. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I can outfly anyone.”

Laurent raises an eyebrow. “You’re awfully cocky.”

“I can back it up.”

Over the headset, Nikandros says, “Stop flirting, we’re about to die.”

“You’re just jealous we didn’t rescue a redhead for you, Nik.”

Laurent points out the front of the cockpit. “TIE fighters.”

“Fuck,” Damen says, attention back on his piloting.

Nik manages to shoot two of TIEs down, but a third is still on their tail as they come out of atmo beneath the Star Destroyer, and Damen can see a whole squadron heading towards them from the direction of the large ship.

“They really want you back, huh?” he says, hitting the brake suddenly and forcing the TIE to shoot ahead of them. It explodes in a shower of sparks as Nik locks on and fires, and Damen flips the  _ Lioness _ on her belly to shoot in the opposite direction.

Laurent is red in the face from the blood rushing to his head when Damen flips the ship back upright, but manages to quip, “Well you know, I killed an Inquisitor so I think I get to meet Vader next.”

Damen’s stunned enough by that to take his eyes off the controls and gape for a moment. “ _ Vader? _ ”

“ _ Where? _ ” Nik asks, in his ear.

“He’s not here,” Laurent says.

“How do you know?” Damen demands.

“Because we’re getting away,” Laurent says.

Damen blinks a couple times, then Nik curses in his ear again and his attention is drawn abruptly back to piloting them around a couple of cargo ships as the Star Destroyer itself starts firing at them. He skirts one of them tightly enough that he can hear Laurent suck in a breath.

But then they’re clear, open space ahead of them.

Laurent reaches for the hyperspace lever and pulls back on it, and the stars streak into lines ahead of them as they leave Naboo behind.

Damen yanks the headset off, turning to Laurent with a wide grin. “What did I tell–”

He’s cut off when Laurent grabs the front of his shirt, pulling him close and pressing a kiss against his lips. It’s just a dry press of lips, but Damen’s lips are still open from being in the middle of talking, and his eyes are wide in shock. He closes them, feeling Laurent’s lashes flutter against his cheeks, and darts his tongue out against Laurent’s lips.

The kiss has just deepened, and Damen’s gotten a hand up and around the back of Laurent’s neck, when there’s a slight noise from the doorway. Laurent jerks away, and they both turn to find Nikandros standing in the cockpit doorway, looking between them with a glower.

“Nice shooting,” Damen tells him.

Nikandros just nods. “Where are we headed?”

“Better if you don’t know,” Laurent says.

Nikandros eyes narrow. “What, are we headed to your secret Jedi hiding spot now?”

“You say that like you don’t want to know where it is,” Laurent says.

Nikandros turns to leave the cockpit. “Fuckin’ Jedi. You’re all insane.”

Damen waits for him to turn the corner, out of earshot, before asking, “No really, where are we going?”

“It’s a secret Jedi hideout,” Laurent says. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”


End file.
